


Volley

by rageprufrock



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/pseuds/rageprufrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just not Tezuka's day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volley

Tezuka decided that if went to Europe to study, he'd find whoever had decided to export the idea of Valentines Day and practice aiming drives at their forehead.  Normally, he'd never lower himself do that level--he'd just order the tennis club to do it--but with the given circumstances, it seemed the most prudent course of action.

"Canceled?"

He flicked his eyes carefully to his left in time to see Oishi cock one eyebrow in amusement.  Tezuka tightened his fingers along his pencil and focused on not snapping it; the last time he'd done that he'd had to go to the infirmary to have plastic shards removed from his fingers.

" _Canceled_ ," Tezuka said clearly.  He hated to repeat himself but he also hated the tone of doubt in Echizen's voice.  Some part of him knew that the worst was yet to come and he braced himself, not that it'd make much difference either way.

Echizen raised his eyebrows and said, "Who died?"

Oishi was trying to suppress a smile and failing spectacularly.  Fuji's smile, usually layered with a degree of polite falseness was utterly genuine now, and his blue eyes were glimmering with amusement.  Even the perpetual scratching of Inui's 0.5mm lead pencil ceased as the bespectacled tennis player grinned at the captain.

Tezuka took two deep breaths and reminded himself murder was not an option.

"No particular reason," he started, "it's--"

"Valentines Day," Fuji cut in, imminently pleased by the announcement. 

Kikumaru, from his perch in the corner giggled and tore up another sheet of computer paper to start on what would be his forty-fifth origami star.  "I  _love_  Valentines Day," he said enthusiastically.  "All that free candy!  And everybody's happy," he added.

Oishi, Tezuka noted idly, leveled a Look at his doubles partner but didn't say a word. 

"Haven't you heard of Valentines Days?" Kikumaru went on, painfully earnest.  

Tezuka tried to think of an excuse to leave the room and came up blank.  It was one of a dozen offices scattered around the school for club use, and he really did have an enormous stack of paperwork to get through--and without the help of Oishi, he was likely to be stuck there until midnight.  (While the prospect of silence was attractive, walking around like the living dead the next day and getting killed in a convenient bus accident was *not*.)  And where Oishi went, Kikumaru was sure to follow; Fuji never listened to what Tezuka said anyway, so it was a lost cause.  Tezuka didn't know why Echizen was there, but then again, he rarely knew why *anybody* decided to stay and distract him.  He gritted his teeth and told himself to be strong.

Echizen glared.  "Of  _course_  I know what Valentines Day is," he retorted hotly.  "But I don't see why tennis practice is canceled because of a few silly girls and their..."

Echizen had trailed off as Fuji broke out into a gleaming smile, Oishi couldn't help but laugh, and Kikumaru doubled over and tipped out of his chair, landing in a rain of paper stars with a thump.  Tezuka glared at the table-top and willed himself not to blush.  Forty laps, he promised himself, as soon as it looked like it was going to rain.

"O-Ochibi," Kikumaru managed, " _you_ are in for a show."

Fuji smiled at Tezuka from his vantage point at the opposite end of the table.  "Oh, I'm not so sure; I've found that most of the best surprises are sweet one way or the other."  The smile hardened just enough to show Tezuka all of Fuji's edges.  "Right, Tezuka?"

Tezuka snapped his pencil.

 ****

 *****

 

Like most middle schools, Seikagu spent most of Valentines in a blur of hearts and candy and stuttering confessions of love.  The girls arrived at school with bags of gaily decorated candy and boxes of chocolate for one another, and extravagant gifts for their boyfriends and crushes.  All day, boys were likely to be walking around tense and nervous, waiting for the girl of their dreams to make a move; and girls were just as off-center, mustering up the courage to say anything at all, clutching their gifts.

Tezuka gritted his teeth just outside the school building, near a tree (not behind it, he assured himself, as that would be hiding and he did no such thing), and reminded himself that there was nothing to be worried about.  It was just like any other day, but with chocolate, was all.  And so what, he consoled himself, taking a breath and the first step out in front of the school, if a few girls cornered him and tried to give him their candy and made moony eyes at him?

He felt the stares as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard.

Some girls were giggling, others looked as if they wanted to vomit, and each of them staring at Tezuka all had the same hungry light in their eyes, like it was a race.

Tezuka was a fan of the competitive spirit, he drilled it into his tennis club, but he had no desire to become the prize.

Also, he thought, the handwriting on that "TEZUKA BUCHOU IS THE COOLEST" banner hanging from a row of third story windows looked suspiciously like Eiji's.  And if it was, Tezuka was certain that the acrobatic tennis player would be thrilled to run seventy laps--in sleet.  No amount of placating from Oishi would save him.

He kept his head high and eyes straight ahead, walking quickly.  As unflattering as the comparison might had been, Tezuka found himself reviewing all the lessons on wild animals his grandfather had taught him: show no fear. 

The only problem was that Tezuka was a terrible liar and an even worse actor.  He could feel it, the nervousness vibrating off of him and radiating everywhere.  It frustrated him to the point of being nonverbal--which was not actually his natural state of being, contrary to what Fuji enjoyed telling nervous strangers at tennis tournaments--that he could face down an opponent over a court and between the white lines without batting an eye, and felt like staying home sick every Valentine's Day.

Or, he thought, growing creative, maybe it was time for another trip to his grandfather's lodge.  The fish were getting too settled.  If he planned it well enough, maybe he'd be attacked by a bear.  And if he died, no one could ever make him sit through another Valentine's Day again.

And suddenly, Fuji's face popped into view, with a brush of brown hair and blue eyes twinkling.  His bookbag looked packed to the seams, bits of ribbon sticking out where the zippers would not close.  Tezuka had tried asking Fuji how he handled girls on Valentine's Day once, but Fuji had suggested something that involved carrying condoms in his pocket and lying about it the day afterward.  Tezuka had decided later that day, watching Fuji run one hundred laps as punishment, never to ask the boy anything again.

"Good morning, Tezuka," Fuji said pleasantly.

Tezuka nodded.  "Fuji."

They fell into step with one another and Tezuka felt even more eyes turn at them, fighting the urge to fake seizures and wait until his parents could take him home.

"You look  _nervous_ , Tezuka," Fuji said naughtily.  "Afraid you won't get any chocolate?"

Tezuka rolled his eyes.  "Yes, that's it exactly."

Fuji giggled--a sound entirely alien coming from a fifteen year old boy, yet perfectly normal from Fuji Suuyuske, another one of his many, many quirks of personality of which Tezuka had abandoned understanding years ago.  "Well then, that won't do, Tezuka," Fuji said, and pulled his hands from where they'd been folded behind his back.  He was holding a light green gift bag, with two curving lines drawn at diagonal corners so it looked like a tennis ball.  "Happy Valentine's day!"

A roar of whispers went up in the courtyard and Tezuka paled. 

"That's not funny, Fuji," he said tersely.

Fuji looked deeply, deeply hurt, and Tezuka debated killing him, and if it was even possible.

"You don't like it?" the shorter boy asked, voice wavering.  The bag hung between them from Fuji's white fingers.  "I looked for a bag this color for hours.  And then I went to the art store especially to find white paint to decorate it for you."  He paused, and looked even more tragic.  "But�if Tezuka doesn't like it, then I understand.  I'll just throw it away.  Or feed it to the homeless.  Or give it to a dog."  Fuji looked away.  "Maybe I'll just give it to some girl or--"

"Oh for God's sake," Tezuka muttered, and snatched the bag.  "Thank you.  You shouldn't have."

Fuji brightened instantly.  "You're welcome, Tezuka!  I didn't want you to feel left out."

Tezuka stared at him.

"One hundred laps again?" Fuji asked innocently, still smiling.

"One hundred and  _fifty_ ," Tezuka bit out.

Fuji pouted.  "Well.  Then I expect something spectacular on White Day."

Tezuka winced as they neared the main doors; there were girls waiting.  "Fuji, you're a boy."

"Captain is  _cheap_ ," Fuji complained.  "You're awful."

The crowd loomed; Tezuka felt his heart rate increase horribly.  Was it him, or were the girls' skirts all much shorter than regulation?  Had they taken in their sweaters, as well?  Those were entirely too tight.  When had girls turned into ravenous hellbeasts? 

"I like vacations," Fuji said cheerfully, "or white chocolate, if you're really that tight on cash."

Why did Tezuka know  _Fuji?_

Tezuka glared.  "Go away," he said very carefully.

Fuji pouted only a second before giggling boyishly behind one pale hand, and fluttering away to his class.

 ****

 *****

 

The main problem with Valentine's Day wasn't that girls gave him presents, or that he was even uncomfortable with it--it was the  _crying_.

Tezuka reflected, as Girl Whose Name He Only Knew Because He Was Student Body President left in tears, that if the entire concept of Valentine's Day was to give someone you liked a present, then wasn't it a corollary desire not to make said someone want to die of miserable shame and guilt?  Tezuka missed the part where reciprocation was an obligatory part of the game.

By lunch, he'd accumulated a small mountain of chocolates in decorated boxes, with long, emotional notes tucked into curled ribbons.  He was running out of deskspace and it wasn't all going to fit into his bookbag.  The boys in his class were glaring.  It was enough to make him want to shrivel into his seat--if Tezuka was the type of person who did that type of thing.

If he was smarter or less proud, Tezuka admitted, he would have beaten a quick retreat to one of the club offices.  It would have been quieter, safer, and wonderfully female-free.

But not Fuji-free, he thought darkly.

Tezuka was beginning to become convinced that the only way to distract Fuji was by throwing someone else in his direction; while it was not an honorable tactic, or a particularly humane one, Tezuka was giving it serious consideration.  If no one else, then Echizen, he decided, for attitude and excessive consumption of Ponta.

He took a calming breath and ate his lunch in silence, staring hard at his Japanese history text and not seeing any of the words on the page.

"Tezuka-san?"

He fought the instinctive desire to wince, pasted a neutral expression on his face, and promised himself someone would pay for this.

 ****

 *****

 

The athletic director of Seigaku, who spent an inordinate amount of time fawning over the entire tennis team, was in a foul mood, and occupied himself glaring at a sheaf of papers in the corner of the gym, leaving the students mostly to their own devices.

Tezuka, who had been looking forward to the blessed gender-segregated peace of PE at least was suddenly assaulted by a terrifying number of females in very short shorts sticking out their unimpressive chests. 

He debated whether or not the inevitable physical repercussions of telling them so would outweigh the benefits of making them all hate him in one fell swoop before cursing Fuji in his head and deciding never to fall for the "Oh, Tezuka, I've won tickets to a great movie.  Would you like to come and see it with me?"  He'd never live down going into that theater, Tezuka thought bitterly; what made it worse was that nobody bothered to ask if he was old enough to go, and Fuji said that they were  _together_.  Homicide seemed like a better and better option.

A particularly forward girl tugged on his sleeve, smiling brightly.  "Tezuka-san?"

"Yes?" he said gruffly.

She leaned forward and he pressed himself back along the wall, eyes darting left and right, seeking an escape path.

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?" she asked, beaming.  Several of the girls around her scowled, a few others grinned hopefully.  Tezuka wanted to die.

He almost wished he hadn't canceled practice, but the memory of last year's debacle came back to his mind, and the echoing voice of a random third year yelling about how she'd been saving herself for him broadcasted in his head.  Repressing a shudder, Tezuka thought about lying.

"Because we're all going to a karaoke bar after school," she continued, bubbling.  "And we already checked with Kikumaru-san and found out you canceled practice--" Kikumaru would die, Tezuka swore, and die horribly "--so we know you're not going to be stuck here hitting tennis balls all afternoon."

"I--" Tezuka started, before remembering that he was a terrible liar and that a person couldn't be allergic to karaoke, anyway, no matter how much it felt true.

The girls closed in on him, and Tezuka was seeing terrifying flashes of the swimmy light in the karaoke parlors for a moment before he heard someone interrupting.

"Excuse me, girls."

Unmistakably, improbably, horribly--Fuji's voice.

This was, somehow, much, much worse.  He decided to make a break for it.

Fuji, somehow, navigated his way through the ocean of girls that had Tezuka mostly trapped and grabbed Tezuka's wrist in an iron-grip, still smiling pleasantly--moving in a blink of the eye.

"Fuji," Tezuka said gruffly--but with a slight inflection that read "panic" to anybody who knew what to listen for. 

Fuji totally ignored him. 

In a far corner, Tezuka could see Oishi and Kikumaru doubled over laughing, their own following of females crowded around them, though neither looked particularly concerned.  Perhaps, Tezuka would trade them their lives to learn the secret of how they maintained their calm--perhaps.

"Our captain," Fuji said easily, "will be busy tonight."

The girl at the head of the crowd narrowed her eyes.  "And how would you know about it?"

Fuji smiled at her.  "Because he's one of my dearest friends."  There was an edge to his voice. 

"Oh," the girl said, regaining a bit of her courage, "and I'd like to know what he's doing!"

Tezuka felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the smile on Fuji's face widened.

Later, Tezuka didn't even feign politeness when Fuji appeared at the end of the day with empty shopping bags.  He simply snatched them out of Fuji's very white hands and started stuffing gifts into them, making a mental note to leave them in the club room next day's practice, as Momoshiro would make quick work of them, and Inui was sure to take some to analyze their contents.  He wasn't particularly fond of sweets and even if he was, he wasn't eating three bags worth.

"What, no thank you?" Fuji asked innocently.

"I do not," Tezuka said precisely, "have a date tonight."

Fuji blinked, a picture of innocence.  "You  _don't?_ "

Tezuka sighed in frustration, grabbed up his bags, and stalked out the door.

Another flock of girls met him at the school gate, and it was only Fuji's evil eye that got them out off the grounds before any permanent damage was done.

 ****

 *****

 

They'd made it all the way to the nearest train station before Fuji uttered another word.

"I didn't know you'd get so upset," he said lightly, a disarming tone in his voice.

Tezuka debated ignoring him, but it never worked, and he made a vague, neutral sound.  Part of him wanted nothing more than to throw the three bags worth of things at Fuji, the other, better-behaved part, wanted to know why exactly Fuji did the things he did.  But having lived with a mother who was entirely too similar to Fuji for comfort for his entire life, he knew better than to bother asking.

"But it was a memorable Valentine's day, wasn't it, Captain?" Fuji said.

It was as close to an apology as Tezuka assumed he could get out of Fuji, ever.

"I suppose," he acquiesced.

Smiling, Fuji mused, "Too bad Echizen missed the entire thing."

Tezuka winced.

"At least I took photos," Fuji continued, entirely too innocent.

That was it.

"Fuji, you--"

"I get jealous sometimes, too, Tezuka," Fuji cut in, quiet and serious for once.  "I know I make trouble, that I'm terribly naughty."  When he looked up, there was a smile on his face, one entirely different than the one Tezuka was used to seeing.  "But even when you're punishing me, you're paying attention, aren't you?"

Tezuka's mouth shut with a click, and he stared over Fuji's shoulder, unwilling to meet his eyes.

They waited for different trains back to their different houses at different ends of different Tokyo suburbs, and Fuji and Tezuka stood side by side quietly on the platform.

"Fuji," Tezuka said gruffly as his train rolled into the station first.

"Yes?"

Tezuka hesitated, the train seemed impatient, and the last strangling riders rushed to the closing doors, and still he didn't move.  There was something to say, and no way to say it.  If only he was Fuji, with his deceptive smile and soft voice, the damnable shameless attitude toward life that left him completely without inhibition, that made it okay for Fuji to give other boys presents in school yards, in front of half the student population on Valentine's day.

There was a question that lingered between the two of them, one Fuji had posed what seemed like months ago, without words and with barely an action.  Tezuka wasn't ready to answer yet, he realized, but he was ready to--do  _something._

Suddenly, as if finally realizing he was about to miss his ride home, Tezuka rushed onto the train, and as the doors were sliding closed, he watched Fuji's distorted reflection through the plexiglass windows and mouthed, "Happy Valentine's day."

And Fuji remained still and serene on the platform as the train pulled away, smiling.


End file.
